The guns were wheeled up into positions between the infantry brigades. The troops were disposed in line, two deep; two companies of each battalion, with the stretchers and bearers, taking post at a short distance farther back, to reinforce the front line if hardly pressed, and to supply it from the reserve store of ammunition.

Already the gunboats had recommenced the bombardment of Omdurman, and the mosque of the Mahdi, but as soon as news came that the Dervishes were advancing to the attack, they were signalled to return to cover the flank of the zareba. On their arrival, they took up a position whence they could shell the line by which the Dervishes were advancing, and which would bring them apparently five or six hundred yards west of Surgham Hill.

The Lancers at once started forward to cover the left flank of the position. In a few minutes they reached Surgham Hill, and joined the Egyptian squadron there.

The sight from the crest of Surgham Hill was grand. The enemy's front extended over three miles. The lines were deep and compact, and the banners floated above them. They were advancing steadily and in good order, and their battle cries rose and fell in measured cadence. Their numbers were variously estimated at from fifty to seventy thousand—a superb force, consisting of men as brave as any in the world, and animated by religious fanaticism, and an intense hatred of those they were marching to assail.

In the centre were the Khalifa's own corps, twenty thousand strong. On their right was the banner of Yacoub, his brother, and beyond, two divisions led by well-known emirs; while on his left was the division led by his son, Osman, known as Sheik Ed Din, the nominal commander-in-chief of the whole force.

The 21st Lancers, out in skirmishing order, were speedily driven back by the Dervishes, and retired into the zareba. When the latter came near enough to see the small British force, a shout of exultation rose from their ranks, for they felt certain now of surrounding and annihilating the infidels, according to the prophecy.

On our side the satisfaction was no less marked. The front line moved forward to the thorny hedge, and prepared to open fire above it. The black troops uttered a joyful shout of defiance, as they took their places in their trenches.

When the enemy were two thousand eight hundred yards away, the three batteries on the left of the zareba opened fire; and two batteries on the right, and a number of Maxims, joined in pouring shell and bullets into the thickest of the Dervish mass round the Khalifa's banner. The effect was terrible. For a moment the Dervish lines halted, astonished at the storm to which they were exposed. But it was only for a moment. The wide gaps were filled up, and at a quicker pace than before, the great line swept on; the banner bearers and Baggara horsemen pushing forward to the front, to encourage the infantry.

Seeing how persistently they were coming on, the Sirdar ordered the men of Lyttleton's brigade to open fire at long range. The Grenadiers were the first to begin, firing volleys in sections. The other regiments of the brigade were soon hard at it, but neither they nor the Maxims appeared to be doing serious execution, while the terrible effect of the shell fire could really be seen. But, although great numbers of the enemy were killed or wounded by the bursting shells, there was no halt in the forward movement.

Suddenly, over the crest and sides of the Surgham Hill, the division of the Dervish right, reinforced by a portion of Yacoub's division, appeared; and over fifteen thousand men came streaming down the hill, waving banners and shouting their war cries. They were led by their emirs, on horseback; but the infantry kept pace with these, occasionally discharging their rifles at random.

The guns of the three batteries, and one of the Maxims, were swung round and opened upon them. They were less than a mile away, and the whole of Gatacre's division opened a terrific fire. Still the Dervishes held on, leaving the ground they passed over white with fallen men. From seventeen hundred yards the sights had to be lowered rapidly, but at a thousand yards they held their foe. No man could cross the ground swept by the hail of balls. So rapid and sustained was the fire, that men had to retire to refill their pouches from the reserve ammunition, and the rifles were so heated that they could no longer be held. In some cases the men changed their weapons for those of the companies in reserve, in others these companies closed up and took the places of the front line. Not for a moment was there any cessation in the fire.

Unable to do more, Yacoub's men moved towards the front and joined the main body, whose advance had been checked by the fire of Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. A few rounds had been fired by the three cannon that the Khalifa had brought out with him, but they all fell short.

On our side the casualties had been few. In their desperate attempt to get at close quarters, the Dervish riflemen had not stopped to reload the weapons they had discharged, and there was practically no return to the awful fire to which they had been exposed.

But while Yacoub's force had been terribly punished, and the main body, brought to a standstill at a distance of fourteen hundred yards, had suffered almost as heavily, the battle had not gone so well to the right of our position, towards which the Khalifa was now moving. Broadwood's horse, and the camel corps, had been driven off the hill they occupied; and so fierce was the attack that three of the guns of the horse battery had to be left behind. The camel corps were ordered to retire rapidly, and make for shelter to the right rear of the camp. The force made two or three stands, and the Egyptian cavalry more than once charged the pursuing horsemen. The gunboats opened fire, and covered the final retirement of the camel corps, which had lost eighty men.

The cavalry did not retire to the zareba, but continued to fall back, occasionally turning and facing the enemy, until they were five miles away; when the Dervishes gave up the pursuit, and sat down to rest after their tremendous exertions. Although forced to retire, the cavalry had done good service, for they had drawn off a great body of the enemy at a critical moment, and these were unable to return and take part in the battle still raging.

At length, the Khalifa moved off with all his force behind the western hills, and for a short time there was a lull in the battle. Many of the wounded tribesmen crawled up to within seven or eight hundred yards of the zareba, and there opened fire. Their aim was good, and men began to drop fast, in spite of the volleys fired to clear off the troublesome foe. But their fire was soon disregarded for, from the ravines in the range of low hills, behind which the Khalifa's force had disappeared, a mass of men burst out at a hard run. From their shelter behind Surgham Hill, a portion of the force who were there also swept down to join the Khalifa, while Yacoub advanced from the southwest, and another body from the west.

Instantly the infantry and artillery fire broke out again. On the previous day, the distance had been measured and marked on several conspicuous objects; and the storm of shells tore the ranks of the enemy, and the rifles swept them with a rain of bullets. But, in face of all this, the Dervishes continued to advance at a run, their numbers thinning every minute.

Two or three hundred horsemen, with their emirs, dashed at the zareba at full gallop. Shrapnel, Maxim and rifle bullets swept their ranks, but nearer and nearer they came, with lessening numbers every yard, until the last of them fell within about two hundred yards of Maxwell's line. Animated by the example, the infantry rushed forward. The black flag was planted within nine hundred yards of Maxwell's left; but, in addition to the Egyptian fire, the crossfire of the British divisions poured upon those around it.

The main body began to waver, but the Khalifa and his emirs did their best to encourage and rally them. The flag was riddled with balls, and the men who held it were shot down; but others seized the post of honour, until a pile of bodies accumulated round it.

At last, but one man remained standing there. For a minute he stood quietly immovable, then fell forward dead. Then the Dervishes lost heart, and began to fall back in ones and twos, then in dozens, until the last had disappeared behind the hills.

The troops then turned their attention to the men who, lying in shelter, were still maintaining their fire. There were fully a thousand of these, and the greater portion of our casualties took place from their fire, while the troops were occupied in repelling the main attack. It was not long, however, before bullets and shell proved too much for them; and those who survived crawled away, to join their kinsmen behind the hills.

It was eight o'clock now, and the victory had apparently been won. Some ten thousand of the Khalifa's best troops had been killed or wounded. In the British division, one officer and one man had been killed, and three officers and sixty-five men wounded. The latter were at once placed on board the hospital barges. Fresh ammunition was served out and, half an hour after the last shot was fired, the army prepared to march on Omdurman.

It was most important that they should arrive at the town before Ed Din's Dervishes should reach it; for unless they could do so, the loss that would be incurred in capturing it would be vastly greater than that which had been suffered in the battle. At nine o'clock the start was made. The troops advanced in brigades. Lyttleton led on the left, Wauchope was on his right, Maxwell somewhat in the rear, while still more to the right came Lewis, and farther out on the plain Macdonald. They formed roughly half a semicircle. Lyttleton, followed by Wauchope, was to march between the river and Surgham Hill. Maxwell was to cross over the hill, while Lewis and Macdonald were to keep farther out to the right. Collinson's Egyptian brigade was to guard the stores and materials left behind.

The 21st Lancers scouted ahead of the British brigades, to discover if any foe were lurking behind Surgham Hill. When about half a mile south of the hill, they saw a small party of Dervish cavalry and some infantry, who were hiding in what looked like a shallow water course. The four squadrons rode forward at a gallop. A sharp musketry fire opened upon them, but without hesitation they dashed headlong at the Dervishes, when they found that, instead of a hundred and fifty foemen as they had supposed, some fifteen hundred Dervishes were lying concealed in the water course.

It was too late to draw rein, and with a cheer the cavalry rode down into the midst of the foe. There was a wild, fierce fight, lance against spear, sabre against sword, the butt-end of a rifle or the deadly knife. Some cut their way through unscathed. Others were surrounded and cut off. Splendid feats of heroism were performed. Many of those who got over returned to rescue officers or comrades, until at last all the survivors climbed the bank.

The brunt of the fighting fell upon the two central squadrons. Not only were the enemy thickest where they charged, but the opposite bank of the deep nullah was composed of rough boulders, almost impassable by horses. These squadrons lost sixteen killed and nineteen wounded. Altogether, twenty-two officers and men were killed, and fifty wounded; and there were one hundred and nineteen casualties among the horses.

Once across, the survivors gathered at a point where their fire commanded the water course; and, dismounting, speedily drove the Dervishes from it. On examining it afterwards, it was found that sixty dead Dervishes lay where the central squadrons had cut their way through.

The charge, in its daring and heroism, resembled that of the 23rd Light Dragoons at Talavera. The fall into the ravine, on that occasion, was much deeper than that into which the Lancers dashed; but it was not occupied by a desperate force, and although many were injured by the fall, it was in their subsequent charge, against a whole French division, that they were almost annihilated.

Both incidents were, like the Balaclava charge, magnificent; but they were not war. A desperate charge, to cover the retreat of a defeated army, is legitimate and worthy of all praise, even if the gallant men who make it are annihilated; but this was not the case at Talavera, nor at Omdurman. It was a brilliant but a costly mistake. The bravery shown was superb, and the manner in which officers and men rode back into the struggling mass, to rescue comrades, beyond all praise; but the charge should never have been made, and the lives were uselessly sacrificed.

As yet, all was quiet at other points. Bodies of the enemy could be seen, making their way towards Omdurman. The battery opposite the town had, from early morning, been keeping up a fire from its heavy guns upon it; but, save for the occasional shot of a lurking Dervish, all was quiet elsewhere.

While the cavalry charge was in progress, Gregory had moved along the line of the Egyptian brigades with General Hunter. Suddenly, from behind the hills where the Khalifa had fallen back with his defeated army, a column of fully twelve thousand men, led by the banner bearers and emirs, poured out again. A strong body sprang forward from another valley, and made for the southeastern corner of Macdonald's brigade, which had moved almost due west from the position it had occupied in the zareba; while the large force that had chased away the Egyptian cavalry were seen, returning to attack him in the rear.

General Hunter, who was riding between Macdonald's and Lewis's brigades, which were now a good mile apart, exclaimed to Gregory, who happened to be the nearest officer to him:

"Ride to Macdonald, and tell him to fall back, if possible!"

Then he turned, and galloped off to fetch up reinforcements. But the need was already seen. The sudden uproar had attracted the attention of the whole army, and the Sirdar instantly grasped the situation. The moment was indeed critical. If Macdonald's brigade were overwhelmed, it might have meant a general disaster; and the Sirdar at once sent orders to Wauchope's brigade, to go, at the double, to Macdonald's aid.

Fortunately Colonel Long, who commanded the artillery, had sent three batteries with Macdonald's brigade. Collinson's brigade were far away near the river, Lewis's were themselves threatened. It was evident, at once, that no assistance could reach Macdonald in time. When Gregory reached him, the Dervishes were already approaching.

"It cannot be done," Macdonald said sternly, when Gregory delivered the message. "We must fight!"

Indeed, to retreat would have meant destruction. The fire would have been ineffective, and the thirty thousand fierce foes would have been among them. There was nothing to do but to fight.

Macdonald had marched out with the 11th Soudanese on his left, the 2nd Egyptians in the centre, and the 10th Soudanese on the right—all in line. Behind, in column, were the 9th Soudanese. The last were at once brought up into line, to face the advancing enemy.

Fortunately, the Sheik Ed Din's force was still some little distance away. The batteries took their place in the openings between the battalions, and the Maxim-Nordenfeldts were soon carrying death into the advancing foe; while the Martini-Henry, with which the black and Egyptian troops were armed, mowed them down as by a scythe. The Soudanese battalions fired, as was their custom, individually, as fast as they could load; the Egyptian battalion by steady volleys.

Still the enemy pressed on, until they were within two hundred yards of the line. The emirs and other leaders, Baggara horse and many spearmen, still held on; until they fell, a few feet only from the steady infantry. The rear ranks of the Dervishes now began to fall back, and the desperate charges of their leaders grew feebler; but Ed Din's division was now within a thousand yards. Macdonald, confident that the main attack was broken, threw back the 9th Soudanese to face it, and wheeled a couple of his batteries to support them.

The already retreating Dervishes, encouraged by the arrival of Ed Din's division, returned to the attack. The 11th Soudanese swung round, to aid the 9th in their struggle with Ed Din's troops. The charges of the Dervishes were impetuous in the extreme. Regardless of the storm of shell and bullets they rushed on, and would have thrust themselves between the 9th and 11th, had not the 2nd Egyptians, wheeling at the double, thrown themselves into the gap.

The Dervishes pressed right up to them, and bayonet and spear frequently crossed; but in a fight of this kind, discipline tells its tale. The blacks and Egyptians maintained their lines, steadily and firmly; and against these, individual effort and courage, even of the highest quality, were in vain.

The ground being now cleared, the gunboats opened with Maxim and cannon upon the rear of the Dervishes. The camel corps coming up, each man dismounted and added his fire to the turmoil; and, finally, three of Wauchope's battalions arrived, and the Lincolns, doubling to the right, opened a terrible flank fire. The Dervishes broke and fled; not, as usual, sullenly and reluctantly, but at full speed, stooping low to escape the storm of bullets that pursued them.

Zaki had, throughout the day, kept close to Gregory, ready to hold his horse when he dismounted; but, quick-footed as he was, he was left behind when his master galloped across to Macdonald. He was up, however, in the course of a minute or two, and Gregory was glad to see him, for the horse was kicking and plunging at the roar of the approaching enemy; and was almost maddened when to this was added the crash of the batteries and musketry.

"Put my blanket round his head, Zaki," Gregory said, when the black ran up. "Wrap it round so that he cannot see. Hold the bridle with one hand, and stroke him with the other, and keep on talking to him; he knows your voice. I don't want to dismount if I can help it, for with my field glasses I see everything that is taking place, and I will tell you how matters are going."

For the moment, it seemed as if the surging crowd streaming down must carry all before it; but the steadiness with which the 9th Soudanese moved into their place on the flank of the line, and the other regiments remained, as if on parade, soon reassured him. The terrible slaughter that was taking place in the ranks of the Dervishes soon showed that, in that quarter at least, there was no fear of things going wrong; but he could not but look anxiously towards the great mass of men approaching from the north.

It was a matter of minutes. Would the present attack be repulsed in time for the position to be changed, to meet the coming storm? Occasionally, Gregory looked back to see if reinforcements were coming. Wauchope's brigade was visible over the tops of the scattered bushes. The movements of the line showed that they were coming on at the double, but they were farther away than Ed Din's host, and the latter were running like deer.

He felt a deep sense of relief when the 9th Soudanese were thrown back, performing the movement as quietly and steadily as if on a drill ground; and two batteries of artillery galloped across to their support. He had hardly expected such calm courage from the black battalion. As to the bravery of the Soudanese troops, there was no question. They were of the same blood and race as their foes, and had shown how bravely they could fight in many a previous battle; but he was not prepared for the steady way in which they worked, under such novel circumstances; and although they, too, must have known that every moment was of consequence, they moved without haste or hurry into the new position, scarcely glancing at the torrent which was rushing on towards them.

Not less steadily and quietly did the 11th, considered to be the crack regiment of the brigade, swing round; and as calmly and firmly did the Egyptian battalion—composed of the peasants who, but twenty years before, had been considered among the most cowardly of people, a host of whom would have fled before a dozen of the dreaded Dervishes—march into the gap between the two black regiments, and manfully hold their own.

And yet, he could not but feel sorry for the valiant savages who, under so awful a fire, still pressed forward to certain death; their numbers withering away at every step, until they dwindled to nothing, only to be replaced by a fresh band, which darted forward to meet a similar fate; and yet, when he remembered the wholesale slaughter at Metemmeh, the annihilation of countless villages and of their inhabitants, and, above all, the absolute destruction of the army of Hicks Pasha, the capture of Khartoum, the murder of Gordon, and the reduction to a state of slavery of all the peaceful tribes of the Soudan, he could not but feel that the annihilation of these human tigers, and the wiping out of their false creed, was a necessity.

When the last shot was fired, he dismounted and leant against his horse, completely unnerved by the tremendous excitement that had been compressed into the space of half an hour. Zaki was in ecstasy at the victory. The ruthless massacre of so many of his tribesmen, the ruin of his native village, and the murder of his relations was avenged, at last. The reign of the Dervishes was over. Henceforth men could till their fields in peace. It was possible that, even yet, he might find his mother and sisters still alive, in the city but a few miles away, living in wretched existence as slaves of their captors.

Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. He would have liked to help to revenge the wrongs of his tribe, but his master needed him; and moreover, there was no place for an untrained man in the ranks of the Soudanese regiments. They were doing their work better than he could. Still, it was the one bitter drop in his intense joy, that he had not been able to aid in the conflict.

He expressed this to Gregory.

"You have had your share in the fight, Zaki, just as I have had. I have not fired a shot, but I have been in the battle, and run its risks, and so have you. Each of us has done his duty, and we can say, for the rest of our lives, that we have borne our share in the great battle that has smashed up the power of the Khalifa, and the rule of the Dervishes."



Chapter 15: Khartoum.

There was no pause or rest for the troops who had been fighting, for so many hours, in the heat of the African sun. It was all important to occupy Omdurman before the remnants of the Khalifa's army reached it; and as it was known that the Khalifa himself had returned there, it was hoped that he might be captured.

It was ten o'clock when Macdonald's brigade fired their last shot. In half an hour, the troops went forward again. The field presented a terrible appearance, being thickly dotted with dead, from the Surgham Hill across the plain; and round, by the Kerreri Hills, to the spot where Macdonald's brigade had made their stand. There were comparatively few wounded; for, wiry and hardy as they were, the wounded Dervishes, unless mortally hit, were for the most part able to crawl or walk away; which they had done unmolested, for on each occasion after the bugle sounded cease firing, not a shot was fired at them. But of dead there were fully ten thousand, scattered more or less thickly over the plain.

From the position in which they were placed, the Egyptian troops, as they marched south, passed the spot where the Khalifa's flag was still flying, as it had been left after its last defenders had fallen. Slatin, who was with the army, rode over the plain at the Sirdar's request, to ascertain if any of the Dervish leaders were among the fallen. He recognized many, but the Khalifa, his son Ed Din, and Osman Digna were not among them. The last-named had ever been chary of exposing himself, and had probably, as was his custom, viewed the battle from a safe distance. But round the flag were the Khalifa's brother, Yacoub, and ten or twelve of the leading emirs.

On our side, the loss had been comparatively light. Our total number of casualties, including the wounded, was five hundred and twenty-four; towards which Macdonald's brigade contributed one hundred and twenty-eight. Marching steadily on, the force halted in the outlying suburb of Omdurman, at midday, to obtain much needed food and water. As soon as the cavalry had watered their horses, they were sent round to the south of the town to cut off fugitives, and some of the gunboats moved up to their support.

Deputations of the townsfolk, Greeks and natives, came out and offered to surrender. They said that the Khalifa was in his house, and that he had about a thousand of his bodyguard with him, but that they could not offer any successful resistance. The town was full of fugitive Dervishes; many thousands of them were there—among them a great number of wounded.

At half past four the Sirdar, with his staff, entered the town; accompanied by Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. Only a few shots were fired. The Dervish courage was broken. It was to the followers of the Prophet, and not to the infidels, that the plains of Kerreri had proved fatal. It was their bodies, and not those of the white soldiers, that were strewn there so thickly. The promise of the Khalifa had been falsified, the tomb of the Mahdi was crumbling into ruins, the bravest of their troops had fallen—what more was there to be done?

As Slatin Pasha rode in at the head of the troops, he was instantly recognized by the people, among whom, for years, he had been a prisoner; and on his assurances that mercy would be shown to all, if there was no resistance, numbers of the Dervishes came out from their houses and huts, and laid down their arms.

The women flocked out into the streets, uttering their long and quavering cries of welcome. To them the entry of the British was a relief from a living death, as almost all were captives taken in war, or in the Dervish raids upon quiet villages. They could scarce even yet believe that they were free—that their tyrants were slain or fugitives.

Intense was the surprise and relief of the population, when they were told that there would be no looting—no harm done to any by the conquerors; that all would be free, if they chose, to depart to their homes, and to take their few belongings with them.

The scene in the town was awful—the stench overpowering! The Dervishes were absolutely ignorant of all sanitary methods—pools of the foulest slush abounded, and thousands of dead animals, in all stages of decomposition, lay about the streets. Among them were numerous dead bodies, principally of girls and women, who had been killed by their brutal husbands or masters, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British. There were also many dead Dervishes, and others desperately wounded.

Strangely enough, the latter did not seem to regard their victorious enemy with the hate that had been exhibited by many of the wounded in the field; and some of them half raised themselves, and saluted the Sirdar and his staff as they passed along.

Presently, there was a commotion in the crowd. The wall of the great granary had been breached, by some of the lyddite shells, and the grain had poured out into the street. The natives near ran up to gather it; and, finding that they were not molested by the British, the news spread rapidly. The crowds in the streets melted away; and the inhabitants, for the most part half starved, made a mad rush to the spot, where in a short time many thousands of men, women, and children were hard at work, gathering and carrying off the grain.

In the meantime the Sirdar, with a party of Maxwell's brigade, passed along by the side of the great wall enclosing the buildings, and square mile of ground, in which were the Khalifa's house, the tomb of the Mahdi, the arsenal, storehouses, and the homes of the principal emirs.

As soon as they had turned the corner of the wall, in view of the tomb and the Khalifa's house, a brisk fire was opened by the garrison. Fortunately, the wall was not loopholed, and they had to get on the top of it, or on to the flat roofs of the houses, to fire. Maxwell's men soon silenced them, and on the troops passing in through the breaches, and along the wall, most of the Dervishes at once surrendered.

For a time, further advance was barred by an inner wall, that still intervened between them and the Khalifa's house. After the gunboats' fire had cleared away a number of the Dervishes clustered outside the south wall, the Sirdar and his staff entered by a gateway, and moved towards the Khalifa's house. This was searched by Slatin Pasha, and several officers and soldiers; but, to the general disappointment, it was found that the Khalifa had escaped but a short time before, carrying with him his treasure; his wives having been sent off, as soon as he returned from the field of battle.

The Mahdi's tomb was a ruin. A large portion of the dome had been knocked away, and the falling fragments had smashed the iron railings that surrounded the tomb, itself.

There was nothing more to be done. The pursuit of the Khalifa, mounted, as he would be, on fresh horses, was out of the question. It was already almost dark, and men and horses had been at work since before daybreak. The town was in a very disturbed state—large numbers of the Dervishes were still possessed of their arms, and the greater portion of the troops were withdrawn from the pestilential town. Next morning a larger force was marched in, and the work of disarmament completed.

The cavalry went out and scouted the country, and brought in large numbers of prisoners. The men belonging to the tribes that had renounced Mahdism—Jaalin and others—were at once allowed to leave for their homes; and numbers of others, whose appearance was peaceful, and who had at once given up their arms, were also released; but there were still no fewer than eleven thousand prisoners, among them some of the Khalifa's emirs.

Many of the townspeople had started, the previous evening, for the field of battle; to bury the bodies of their friends who had fallen, and to bring in the wounded. Of the latter, after our own men had been attended to, fully nine thousand received aid and attention from the British doctors.

On the morning after the occupation, the work of purification began. Great numbers of the unwounded prisoners, and of the townspeople, were set to work to clean the streets; and, in a couple of days, the wider thoroughfares and avenues had been thoroughly cleansed.

Having but little to do, Gregory went into the Khalifa's arsenal. This building was full of war material of all kinds; including a perfectly appointed battery of Krupp guns, numbers of old cannon, modern machine-guns, rifles and pistols; mixed up with musical instruments, suits of chain armour, steel helmets, hundreds of battle flags, and thousands of native spears, swords, and shields. Besides these the collection comprised ivory, percussion caps, lead, copper, and bronze, looms, pianos, sewing machines, boilers, steam engines, agricultural implements, ostrich feathers, wooden and iron bedsteads, paints, India rubber, leather water bottles, clothes, three state coaches, and an American buggy. There were also a modern smithy, where gunpowder, shell, bullets, and cartridge cases were made and stored; and a well-appointed engineers' shop and foundry, with several steam engines, turning lathes, and other tools. The machinery had been brought from Gordon's arsenal at Khartoum, where the foreman had been employed; and the workmen were, for the most part, Greeks.

The battle was fought on Friday, the 2nd of September. On Sunday a flotilla of boats, containing detachments from all the British and Egyptian regiments, and every officer who could be spared from duty, proceeded up the river to Khartoum. The ruined and deserted city looked delightful, after the sand, dirt, and wretchedness of Omdurman. The gardens of the governor's house, and other principal buildings, had run wild; and the green foliage was restful indeed, to the eye, after the waste of sand, rock, and scrub that had been traversed by the army on its way from Wady Halfa.

The vessels drew up opposite a grove of tall palms. Beyond them appeared what had been the government house. The upper story was gone, the windows were filled up with bricks, and a large acacia stood in front of the building.

The troops formed up before the palace, in three sides of a square—the Egyptians were to the left, looking from the river, and the British to the right—the Sirdar, and the generals of the divisions and brigades, facing the centre. Two flagstaffs had been raised on the upper story. The Sirdar gave the signal, and the British and Egyptian flags were run up. As they flew out, one of the gunboats fired a salute, the Guards' band struck up "God Save the Queen!" and the band of the 11th Soudanese then played the Khedive's hymn, while the Generals and all present stood in salute, with their hands to the peak of their helmets. The Sirdar's call for three cheers for the Queen was enthusiastically responded to, every helmet being raised. Similar cheers were then given for the Khedive, the bands again struck up, and twenty-one guns were fired.

As the last gun echoed out, the Guards played the Dead March, in Saul; and the black band the march called Toll for the Brave, the latter in memory of the Khedive's subjects, who had died with Gordon. Then minute guns were fired, and four chaplains—Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic—by turns read a psalm or a prayer. The pipers then wailed a dirge, and finally the Soudanese bands played Gordon's favourite hymn, Abide with Me.

At the conclusion, General Hunter and the other officers shook hands with the Sirdar, one by one. Kitchener himself was deeply moved, and well he might be! Fourteen years of his life had been spent in preparing for, and carrying out, this campaign; and now the great task was done. Gordon was avenged. Of the Dervish host, the remnant were scattered fugitives. The Mahdi's cause, the foulest and most bloodstained tyranny that had ever existed, transforming as it did a flourishing province into an almost uninhabited desert, was crushed forever; and it was his patient and unsparing labour, his wonderful organization, that had been the main factor in the work. No wonder that even the Iron Sirdar almost broke down, at such a moment.

The bugles sounded, and the troops broke up their formation; and, for half an hour, wandered through the empty chambers of the palace, and the wild and beautiful garden. Another bugle call, and they streamed down to the water's edge, took to the boats, and returned to Omdurman.

The long-delayed duty, which England owed to one of her noblest sons, had been done. Gordon had had his burial. None knew where his bones reposed, but that mattered little. In the place where he was slain, all honour had been done to him; and the British flag waved over the spot where he disappeared, forever, from the sight of his countrymen.

On Gregory's return, he found Zaki in a state of the highest excitement.

"Why, what is the matter with you, Zaki?"

"Oh, master, I have found my two sisters!"

"That is good news, indeed. I am very glad to hear it, Zaki. How did you find them?"

"While you were away, Master, I had been walking through the town; and when I was passing near the outskirts, a woman came to a door, and looked very hard at me. Then she suddenly drew aside the cloth from her face and cried, 'Surely it is Zaki!'

"Then I knew her—she was my elder sister. Then another woman came to the door—it was my younger sister, and you can imagine my joy. Both had been married to Baggaras, who had carried them off. Their husbands had gone to the battle, and had not returned; and some neighbours who had gone to the battlefield, next day, brought back news that they had found both bodies; so one sister came to stay with the other. People had told them that it was safe to go out, and that no one was injured who did so; but they had a store of grain in the house, and they decided to wait and see what happened.

"One of them, seeing me come along, and observing that I belonged to the Jaalin, came out to ask me the news; and they were as delighted as I was, at our meeting."

"And your mother, do they know anything of her?"

"She was killed, Master," Zaki said sorrowfully. "I thought possibly it would be so. The Dervishes did not carry off old women. They killed them, and the little children. I had never hoped to see her again; but I did think, when we entered Omdurman, that my sisters might be here."

"What are they going to do?"

"They will go down to Berber. I have told them that many of the people here are going down, and that they will find no difficulty in joining a party. They are sure to find people they know, at Berber, for most of the Jaalin who have escaped have gone there, since we occupied the place. I told them that I would give them what money I had; for, since I have been in my lord's service, I have had no occasion to spend aught that he has paid me."

"I have no doubt, Zaki, that I can arrange for them to go down in one of the empty store boats. I believe that many of the captives who have been released will be sent down that way; and, of course, I shall be glad to give your sisters enough to keep them, for some time, at Berber."

"My lord is too good," Zaki said gratefully.

"Nonsense, Zaki! You saved my life, and I owe you a great deal. I will go down, at once, to the river—that is, if your sisters are ready to start tomorrow—and I have no doubt the transport officer will give me an order, for them, to go in one of the boats."

As he had expected, he had no difficulty in making arrangements. Several of the native boats, that had already landed their stores, would leave on the following day; and Gregory obtained an order for the passage of the two women. He then drew some money from the paymaster and, on his return to headquarters, gave Zaki a hundred dollars for his sisters.

The black was overpowered with joy and, going off, returned with the two girls—for they were little more. Each took one of Gregory's hands, and pressed it to her forehead and heart, and murmured her thanks.

"Do not thank me," he said. "It is but a small part of the debt that I owe your brother. I do not know whether he has told you that he saved my life, at the risk of his own."

"I have been thinking, my lord," Zaki said, "that it would be well for them to go down in the boat as far as Dongola. Our village is not many miles from that place, and many of our people fled there; and doubtless they will return to their villages, and plant their fields, now that they have no longer any fear of the Dervishes. At any rate, they are certain to meet friends, at Dongola."

"Very well, I will get the order altered. There will be no difficulty about that. I shall be very glad to know that you will have a home to go to, when this war is quite over."

"I shall never go, as long as my lord will keep me," Zaki said, fervently.

"I certainly shall not part with you, Zaki, as long as I remain in this country, which will probably be for a long time."

The next day, Zaki aided in carrying his sisters' goods down to the river bank, and saw them on board one of the native craft, which carried also fifteen or twenty other fugitives.

"Now, Mr. Hilliard," General Hunter said, that morning, "you can devote yourself to the object for which you came here. Unquestionably, there must be many among the prisoners who fought at El Obeid. You may gather all particulars of the battle, from their lips.

"The greater portion of the white troops will march down the country, at once. Of course, I don't know what your plans may be; but unless you have a very good reason to the contrary, I should certainly advise you to retain your position in the Egyptian army. A great deal of work will have to be done, before matters are quite settled down; and then civil administration of some sort will, of course, be formed, under which you would certainly obtain a far better post than you could hope to get, at home."

"I have quite made up my mind to do so, sir. Certainly, when I left Cairo, I had no idea of remaining permanently in the service; but I have been so exceptionally fortunate, owing largely to your kindness, that I have been seriously thinking the matter over; and am quite determined that, if I can obtain an appointment, I will remain here. I have no ties, whatever, either in Lower Egypt or in England; no way of earning my living there; and possibly, as I have begun so early, I may rest, in time, in what will no doubt become an important branch of the Egyptian administration."

"I am glad to hear that you take that view. We all grumble at the Soudan, and yet there are few of us but would be sorry to leave it; and there can be no doubt whatever that, under our administration, it will, in time, become a magnificently rich and fertile province."

Being relieved from other duty, at present, Gregory went to the great yard near the mosque, called the Praying Square, where the majority of the Dervish prisoners were confined. Addressing a man of some five-and-forty years, he asked him, in Arabic, whether many among the prisoners had fought against Hicks, at El Obeid.

The man hesitated.

"I am not asking on the part of the Sirdar," Gregory said; "and you may be sure that, if no punishment is inflicted against those who have fought against us now, there can be no thought of punishment, for a thing that happened so many years ago. My father was, I believe, one of the English officers killed there; but as he spoke Arabic well, it is just possible he was not killed; but, like Slatin and Neufeld, was kept as a slave, in case he might be useful."

"There are many here who fought against Hicks," the native said. "I myself fought there, and nearly all the Baggara who are as old as I am were there, also. I have never heard of a white man who escaped death. When we broke into the square, the English General and his officers charged into the middle of us, and all fell. I was not close at the time, but I saw their bodies, an hour afterwards."

"My father was not a fighting officer. He was the interpreter, and may not have been near the others. When the attack by your people was made, I have heard that one of the Soudanese regiments held together, and marched away, and that there was a white officer with them."

"That was so. Two days afterwards, we surrounded them. They fought hard; and at last, when we had lost many men, we offered that, if they would surrender and become the Mahdi's men, they would be spared. Most of them did so, just as some of our tribesmen, taken by you at Atbara, have now taken service with you."

"But the white officer—what became of him?"

"I cannot say," the native said. "I have no memory of him. He may have fallen before they surrendered—who can say? Certainly, I do not remember a white man being killed, after they did so. I will ask others who were there, and tomorrow will tell you what they say."

It was a busy day, in Omdurman. The army that had made such efforts, and achieved so great a triumph, marched in military order, with bands playing, through the town. The Sirdar had a double motive, in ordering them to do so. In the first place, it was a legitimate triumph of the troops, thus to march as conquerors through the town. In the second place the sight would impress, not only the inhabitants, but the Dervish prisoners, with a sense of the power of those who, henceforth, would be their masters; and, undoubtedly, the show had the desired effect. The orderly ranks, as they swept along, the proud demeanour of the men, their physique and equipment, created a profound impression among the natives. Half of them were their own kinsmen, many of whom had fought for the Khalifa, and had now aided in defeating him. This was what had been accomplished by drill and discipline, and the influence of white officers. The Soudanese were evidently well fed and cared for; not even the haughty Baggara held their heads so high.

Especially admired were the artillery, battery following battery, in perfect order. These were the guns that had carried death into the ranks of the Dervishes, against whose fire even the fanatical bravery of the followers of the Khalifa was unable to stand. When the march past was concluded, there was scarce one of the prisoners who would not gladly have enlisted.

On the following day, Gregory again went to the Praying Square. The man he had the morning before seen, at once came up to him.

"I have enquired of many who were at El Obeid, my lord," he said. "All say that there was no white man in the camp, when the black battalion surrendered, though one had been seen while the fighting was going on. Nor was the body of one found, where the fight had taken place on the previous day. It was a matter of talk among the Dervishes, at the time; for they had lain in a circle round the enemy, and were convinced that no one passed through their lines. Those who surrendered said that he had taken the command, and had exposed himself to the hottest fire, and encouraged them; telling them that the more bravely they defended themselves, the more likely they were to obtain favourable terms. The night before, he had advised them to accept any offer the Dervishes might make, but on the following morning he was missing, and none could give any account of what had become of him. The same tale is told by all to whom I have spoken."

The story made a profound impression upon Gregory. It seemed possible that the father, of whom he had no remembrance, might have been the sole white survivor of Hicks's army. True, there was nothing to prove that he was the white man who had joined the black battalion that escaped the first day's massacre. There were other non-combatants: Vizitelly, the artist of the Illustrated London News, and O'Donovan, the correspondent of the Daily News. Either of these might also have been at any other portion of the square, when the attack commenced, and unable to join Hicks and his officers, in their final charge into the midst of the enemy.

Still, it was at least possible that his father was the man who had retired from the field, with the black battalion; and who had, afterwards, so strangely disappeared. If so, what had become of him, all these years? Had he made off in disguise, only to be murdered by wandering bands? Had he been concealed, for months, in the hut of a friendly tribesman? What had he been doing, since? Had he been killed, in trying to make his way down? Had he been enslaved, and was he still lingering on, in a wretched existence?

He could hardly hope that he had fallen into friendly hands; for, had he been alive, he would surely have managed, with his knowledge of the country, to make his way down; or to reach Khartoum, when it was still held by the Egyptians.

At any rate, Gregory concluded that he might find out whether any European had arrived there, during the siege. He went down to the river, and took a native boat across to Khartoum. At the ceremony, on Sunday, many natives watched the arrival of the flotilla; and some of these might have been there, in Gordon's time. He had no great hopes of it, but there was just a chance.

The flags were still flying over the governor's house, when he landed, and a detachment of Egyptian troops was stationed there. A native officer came down, when he landed.

"I have come across to question some of the natives," he said. "I believe some are still living here."

"Oh, yes, Bimbashi! there are a good many, scattered about among the ruins. They come in, bringing fruit and fish for sale. I think they mostly live down by the riverside."

Gregory kept on, till he came to the huts occupied by the fishermen, and men who cultivated small plots of ground. He found several who had lived at Khartoum, when it was captured; and who had escaped the general massacre, by hiding till nightfall, and then making their way up the river, in boats. None of them could give him the information he sought, but one suggested that he was more likely to hear from the Greeks and Turks, who worked in the Khalifa's arsenal and foundries; as they had been spared, for the services they would be able to render to the Mahdi.

Returning to Omdurman, he went to the machine shop. Here work had already been resumed, as repairs were needed by several of the gunboats. He went up to the foreman, a man of some sixty years of age.

"You were engaged in the city during the siege, were you not?" he said, in Arabic, with which he knew the foreman must be thoroughly acquainted.

"Yes, sir, I had been here ten years before that."

"I am very anxious to learn whether any white man, who had survived the battle of El Obeid, ever reached this town before its capture."

The man thought for some time.

"Yes," he said, "a white man certainly came here, towards the end of the siege. I know, because I happened to meet him, when I was going home from work; and he asked me the way to the governor's. I should not have known him to be a white man, for he had a native attire; and was as black, from exposure to the sun, as any of the Arabs. I gave him directions, and did not ask him any questions; but it was said, afterwards, that he was one of Hicks's officers. Later, I heard that he went down in the steamer with Colonel Stewart."

"You did not hear his name?" Gregory asked, anxiously.

"No, sir."

"Did he talk Arabic well?"

"Extremely well. Much better than I did, at the time."

"Do you remember how long he arrived before the steamer started?"

"Not very long, sir, though I really cannot tell you how long it was."

"After you were cut off, I suppose?"

"Certainly it was, but I cannot say how long."

"No one else, here, would know more about it than you do?"

"No, sir; I should think not. But you can ask them."

He called up some of the other workmen. All knew that a white officer, of Hicks Pasha's army, was said to have returned. One of them remembered that he had come down once, with Gordon, to see about some repairs required to the engines of a steamer; but he had never heard his name, nor could he recall his personal appearance, except that he seemed to be a man about thirty. But he remembered once seeing him, again, on board Stewart's steamer; as they had been working at her engines, just before she started.

After thanking the foreman, Gregory returned to the hut, where he and two other officers of Hunter's staff had taken up their quarters. He was profoundly depressed. This white man might well have been his father; but if so, it was even more certain than before that he had fallen. He knew what had been the fate of Stewart's steamer, the remains of which he had seen at Hebbeh. The Colonel, and all with him, had accepted the invitation of the treacherous sheik of that village, and had been massacred. He would at least go there, and endeavour to learn, from some of the natives, the particulars of the fate of those on board; and whether it was possible that any of the whites could have escaped.

After sitting for some time, in thought, he went to General Hunter's quarters, and asked to see him. The General listened, sympathetically, to his story.

"I never, for a moment, thought that your father could have escaped," he said; "but from what you tell me, it is possible that he did so, only to perish afterwards. But I can well understand how, having learnt so much, you should be anxious to hear more. Certainly, I will grant your request for leave to go down to Hebbeh. As you know, that place was taken and destroyed, by the river column under Earle; or rather under Brackenbury, for Earle had been killed in the fight at Kirkeban. Numerous relics were found of the massacre, but the journal Stewart was known to have kept was not among them. Had it been there it would, no doubt, have mentioned the survivor of Hicks's army, who was coming down the river with him.

"The place was deserted when Brackenbury arrived. It certainly was so, when we came up. Since then, some of the inhabitants have probably returned; and may know of places where plunder was hidden away, on the approach of Brackenbury's column. No doubt the offer of a reward would lead to their production.

"You may not have to be absent long. The British regiments are to go down at once, and several steamers will start tomorrow. I will give you an order to go with them. You will have no difficulty in getting back, for the Sirdar has already decided that the railway is to be carried on, at once, from Atbara to Khartoum; and has, I believe, telegraphed this morning that material and stores are to be sent up, at once. Most of these will, no doubt, be brought on by rail; but grain, of which large quantities will be required, for the use of our troops and of the population of the town, will come on by water.

"But, no doubt, your quickest way back will be to ride to Abu Hamed, and take the train up to Atbara."

"I will be back as soon as I can, General. I am much obliged to you, for letting me go."

"I will tell the Sirdar that I have given you leave, and why. It is not absolutely necessary, but it is always well that one's name should be kept to the front."

The next day, Gregory saw the General again.

"I mentioned, to the Sirdar, that you wanted a fortnight's leave, and told him why. He simply nodded, and said, 'Let him have a month, if he wants it.'

"He had other things to think of; for, this morning, a small Dervish steamer came down the White Nile. They had the Khalifa's flag flying, and had not heard of what had taken place, till one of the gunboats ran alongside her. Of course she surrendered, at once.

"It is a curious story they told. They left Omdurman a month ago with the Sapphire, which carried five hundred men. The object of the voyage was to collect grain. When they reached the old station of Fashoda, they had been fired upon by black troops, with some white men among them, who had a strange flag flying. The firing was pretty accurate, for they had forty men killed and wounded; and the emir in command had disembarked, and encamped his troops from the Sapphire on the opposite bank, and had sent the small steamer back, to ask the Khalifa for orders.

"The story seemed so strange, and improbable, that I went down with the Sirdar to the boat, which had been brought alongside. There was no doubt that it had been peppered with balls. Some of the General's staff cut one of the bullets out of the woodwork, and these fully confirmed the story. They were not leaden balls, or bits of old iron, but conical nickel bullets. They could only have been fired from small-bore rifles, so there were certainly white men at Fashoda. Of course, no one can form any opinion as to who they are, or where they come from. They may be Belgians from the Congo. They may—but that is most improbable—be an expeditionary party of Italians. But Italy is withdrawing, and not pushing forward, so I think it is out of the question that they are concerned in the matter.

"The question seems to lie between Belgians and French, unless an expedition has been sent up from our possessions on the great lakes. The Dervishes in the steamer can only say that the flag is not at all like ours; but as their ignorance of colour is profound, they give all sorts of contradictory statements. Anyhow, it is a serious matter. Certainly, no foreign power has any right to send an expedition to the Nile; and as certainly, if one of them did so, our government would not allow them to remain there; for, beyond all question, Fashoda is an Egyptian station, and within Egyptian territory; which is, at present, as much as to say that a foreign power, established there, would be occupying our country."

"It seems an extraordinary proceeding, sir."

"Very extraordinary. If it were not that it seems the thing has absolutely been done, it would seem improbable that any foreign power could take such an extraordinary, and unjustifiable, course. It is lucky for them, whoever they are, that we have smashed up the Dervishes; for they would have made very short work of them, and the nation that sent them would probably never have known their fate."



Chapter 16: A Voice From The Dead.

That afternoon, Gregory heard that orders had been issued for five of the gunboats to start up the river, the first thing in the morning; that the Sirdar himself was going, and was to take up five hundred men of the 11th Soudanese. An order was also issued that all correspondents were to leave, the next day, for Cairo. Gregory had met one of them, that evening.

"So you are all off, I hear, Mr. Pearson?"

"Yes; we did have a sort of option given us, but it was really no choice at all. We might go down instantly, or we must stay till the last of the white troops had gone down. That may be a very long time, as there is no saying what may come of this Fashoda business. Besides, the Khalifa has fairly escaped; and if, out of the sixty thousand men with him, some thirty thousand got off, they may yet rally round him: and, in another two or three months, he may be at the head of as large a force as ever. I don't think, after the way the Egyptians fought the other day, there will be any need for white troops to back them. Still, it is likely that a battalion or two may be left. However, we had practically to choose between going at once, or waiting at least a month; and you may be sure that the censorship would be put on, with a round turn, and that we should not be allowed to say a word of the Fashoda business, which would be the only thing worth telegraphing about. So we have all voted for going.

"Of course, we understand that this pressure has been put upon us, on account of this curious affair at Fashoda. Fortunately, none of us are sorry to be off. There is certain to be a pause, now, for some time; and one does not want to be kicking one's heels about, in this ghastly town; and though it is rather sharp and peremptory work, I cannot say that I think the Sirdar is wrong. Whoever these men may be, they must go, that is certain; but of course it will be a somewhat delicate business, and France—that is, if they are Frenchmen who are there—is sure to be immensely sore over the business; and it is certainly very desirable that nothing should be written, from here, that could increase that feeling. I have no doubt the Sirdar telegraphed home, for instructions, as soon as he got the news of the affair; and I imagine that his going up in the morning, with five gunboats, is proof that he has already received instructions of some sort.

"I hope this force is not French. The feeling against us is tremendously strong, in France, and they certainly will not like backing down; but they will have to do that or fight and, with all their big talk, I don't think they are ready to risk a war with us; especially as, though their occupation of Fashoda would be an immense annoyance to us, it would be of no possible utility to them.

"By the way, we have all got to sell our horses. There is no possibility of taking them down, and it is a question of giving them away, rather than of selling; for, of course, the officers of the British regiments do not want to buy. I have a horse for which I gave twenty-five pounds, at Cairo. You are welcome to him. You can give me a couple of pounds, for the saddle and things."

"I am very much obliged to you, but it would be robbery."

"Not at all. If you won't take him, I shall have him shot, tonight. A horse could not possibly pick up food here, and would die of starvation without a master; and it would be still more cruel to give him to a native, for they are brutal horse masters."

"Well, in that case I shall be glad, indeed, to have him; and I am extremely obliged to you."

"That is right. If you will send your man round, I will hand it over to him."

"As you are going tomorrow, it is likely that I shall go with you; for I am going down, also, as far as Abu Hamed, for ten days."

"That will be pleasant, though I do not know that it will be so for you; for I own the majority of us are rather sour-tempered, at present. Though we may be glad enough to go, one does not care to be sent off at a moment's notice, just as fractious children are turned out of a room, when their elders want a private chat. However, for myself, I am not inclined to grumble. I want to go, and therefore I do not stand on the order of going."

Later, General Hunter gave Gregory an order, for a passage in a steamer on which the correspondents of the various newspapers were going down.

"What shall we take, master?" Zaki asked.

"Just the clothes we stand in, Zaki. I have got a couple of the Dervish Remingtons, and several packets of ammunition. I will take them, and I can get four more. We will take them all down, as we know the people about Hebbeh are not disposed to be friendly. I don't suppose, for a minute, that they are likely to show any hostile feeling; for you may be sure that the fall of Omdurman has spread, by this time, over the whole land, and they will be on their best behaviour. Still, it is just as well to be able to defend ourselves, and I shall engage four men at Abu Hamed to go with us. I shall leave all my kit here."

It was a pleasant run down the river, to Atbara. The correspondents were all heartily glad to be on their way home; and the irritation they had at first felt, at being so suddenly ordered away, at the moment when so unexpected and interesting a development occurred, had subsided. They had witnessed one of the most interesting battles ever fought, had seen the overthrow of the Mahdi, and were looking forward to European comforts and luxuries again.

At Atbara all left the steamer, which was to take in stores, and go up again at once; and proceeded, by a military train, with the first of the returned European regiments.

At Abu Hamed, Gregory left them. His first enquiry was whether any boats were going down the river. He learned that several native craft were leaving, and at once engaged a passage in one of them to Hebbeh. He had no difficulty, whatever, in engaging four sturdy Arabs from among those who were listlessly hanging round the little station. While he was doing this, Zaki bought food for six men, for a week; and in less than two hours from his arrival at Abu Hamed, Gregory was on board.

The boat at once dropped down the river and, as the current was running strongly, they were off Hebbeh next morning, at eight o'clock. A boat put off, and took Gregory and his party ashore. As they were seen to land, the village sheik at once came down to them.

"Is there anything I can do for my lord?" he asked.

"Yes; I have come here to ascertain whether any of those, who were present at the attack upon the party who landed from the steamer over there, are still living here. There is no question of punishment. On the contrary, I have come here to obtain information as to some private matters, and anyone who can give me that information will be well rewarded."

"There are but three men alive who were here at the time, my lord. There were more, but they fled when the boats with the white troops came up, from Merawi. I believe they went to the Dervish camp at Metemmeh.

"The three here are quiet and respectable men. They were asked many questions, and guided the white officers to the place where Wad Etman stood—it was there that those who landed from the steamer first rested—and to the place where the great house of Suleiman Wad Gamr, Emir of Salamat, stood.

"It was there that the much to be regretted attack on the white men was made. When the white army came up, six months afterwards, they blew up the house, and cut down all the palm trees in the village."

"I was with the force that came up from Merawi, last year. Will you bring me the three men you speak of? I would question them, one by one. Assure them that they need not be afraid of answering truthfully, even if they themselves were concerned in the attack upon the white officers, and the crew of the steamer, for no steps will be taken against them. It is eighteen years since then; and, no doubt, their houses were destroyed and their groves cut down, when the British column came here and found the place deserted. I am ready to reward them, if I obtain the information I require from them."

The three men were presently brought to the spot where Gregory had seated himself, in the shade of one of the huts. Zaki stood beside him, and the four armed men took post, a short distance away.

The first called up was a very old man. In reply to Gregory's questions, he said:

"I was already old when the steamboat ran ashore. I took no hand in the business; the white men had done me no harm, while the followers of the Mahdi had killed many of my family and friends. I heard what was going to be done, and I stayed in my house. I call upon Allah to witness that what I say is true!"

"Do you know if any remains of that expedition are still in existence?"

"No, my lord. When the white troops came here, some months afterwards, I fled, as all here did; but I know that, before they destroyed Wad Gamr's house, they took away some boxes of papers that had been brought ashore from the ship, and were still in the house. I know of nothing else. The clothes of the men on board the steamboat were divided among those who took part in the attack, but there was little booty."

Gregory knew that, at Wad Gamr's house, but few signs of the tragedy had been found when General Brackenbury's troops entered. Bloodstained visiting cards of Stewart's, a few scraps of paper, and a field glass had, alone, been discovered, besides the boxes of papers.

The next man who came up said that he had been with the party who fell upon the engineers and crew of the boat, by the riverside.

"I was ordered to kill them," he said. "Had I not done so, I should have been killed, myself."

"Do you know whether any booty was hidden away, before the English came?"

"No, my lord, there was no booty taken. No money was found on board the steamer. We stripped her of the brass work, and took the wood ashore, to burn. The sheik gave us a dollar and a half a man, for what we had done. There may have been some money found on the ship, but as his own men were on board first, and took all that they thought of value, I have naught to say about it."

"And you never heard of anything being hidden, before the British troops arrived?"

The Arab shook his head.

"No, my lord, but there may have been, though I never heard of it. I went and fought at Kirkeban; and when we were beaten, I fled at once to Berber, and remained there until the white troops had all gone down the country."

"I may want to question you again tomorrow," Gregory said. "Here are two dollars. I shall give you as much more, if I want you again."

The third man was then called up. He was evidently in fear.

"Do not be afraid to answer me truly," Gregory said. "If you do so, no harm will come to you, whatever share you may have had in the affair. But if you answer falsely, and the truth is afterwards discovered, you will be punished. Now, where were you when this business took place?"

"We were all ordered, by Wad Gamr, to gather near his house; and, when the signal was given, we were to run in and kill the white men. We saw them go up to the house. They had been told to leave their arms behind them. One of the sheik's servants came out and waved his arms, and we ran in and killed them."

"What happened then?"

"We carried the bodies outside the house. Then we took what money was found in their pockets, with watches and other things, in to the sheik; and he paid us a dollar and a half a head, and said that we could have their clothes. For my share, I had a jacket belonging to one of them. When I got it home, I found that there was a pocket inside, and in it was a book partly written on, and many other bits of paper."

"And what became of that?" Gregory asked, eagerly.

"I threw it into a corner. It was of no use to me. But when the white troops came up in the boats, and beat us at Kirkeban, I came straight home and, seeing the pocketbook, took it and hid it under a rock; for I thought that when the white troops got here, they would find it, and that they might then destroy the house, and cut down my trees. Then I went away, and did not come back until they had all gone."

"And where is the pocketbook, now?"

"It may be under the rock where I hid it, my lord. I have never thought of it, since. It was rubbish."

"Can you take me to the place?"

"I think so. It was not far from my house. I pushed it under the first great rock I came to, for I was in haste; and wanted to be away before the white soldiers, on camels, could get here."

"Did you hear of any other things being hidden?"

"No. I think everything was given up. If this thing had been of value I should, perhaps, have told the sheik; but as it was only written papers, and of no use to anyone, I did not trouble to do so."

"Well, let us go at once," Gregory said, rising to his feet. "Although of no use to you, these papers may be of importance."

Followed by Zaki and the four men, Gregory went to the peasant's house, which stood a quarter of a mile away.

"This is not the house I lived in, then," the man said. "The white troops destroyed every house in the village; but, when they had gone, I built another on the same spot."

The hill rose steeply, behind it. The peasant went on, till he stopped at a large boulder.

"This was the rock," he said, "where I thrust it under, as far as my arm would reach. I pushed it in on the upper side."

The man lay down.

"It was just about here," he said.

"It is here, my lord. I can just feel it, but I cannot get it out. I pushed it in as far as the tips of my fingers could reach it."

"Well, go down and cut a couple of sticks, three or four feet long."

In ten minutes, the man returned with them.

"Now take one of them and, when you feel the book, push the stick along its side, until it is well beyond it. Then you ought to be able to scrape it out. If you cannot do so, we shall have to roll the stone over. It is a big rock, but with two or three poles, one ought to be able to turn it over."

After several attempts, however, the man produced the packet. Gregory opened it, with trembling hands. It contained, as the man had said, a large number of loose sheets, evidently torn from a pocketbook, and all covered with close writing.

He opened the book that accompanied them. It was written in ink, and the first few words sufficed to tell him that his search was over. It began:

"Khartoum. Thank God, after two years of suffering and misery, since the fatal day at El Obeid, I am once again amongst friends. It is true that I am still in peril, for the position here is desperate. Still, the army that is coming up to our help may be here in time; and even if they should not do so, this may be found when they come, and will be given to my dear wife at Cairo, if she is still there. Her name is Mrs. Hilliard, and her address will surely be known, at the Bank."

"These are the papers I was looking for," he said to Zaki. "I will tell you about them, afterwards."

He handed ten dollars to the native, thrust the packet into his breast pocket, and walked slowly down to the river. He had never entertained any hope of finding his father, but this evidence of his death gave him a shock.

His mother was right, then. She had always insisted there was a possibility that he might have escaped the massacre at El Obeid. He had done so. He had reached Khartoum. He had started, full of hope of seeing his wife and child, but had been treacherously massacred, here.

He would not, now, read this message from the grave. That must be reserved for some time when he was alone. He knew enough to be able to guess the details—they could not be otherwise than painful. He felt almost glad that his mother was not alive. To him, the loss was scarcely a real one. His father had left him, when an infant. Although his mother had so often spoken of him, he had scarcely been a reality to Gregory; for when he became old enough to comprehend the matter, it seemed to him certain that his father must have been killed. He could, then, hardly understand how his mother could cling to hope.

His father had been more a real character to him, since he started from Cairo, than ever before. He knew the desert, now, and its fierce inhabitants. He could picture the battle and since the fight at Omdurman he had been able to see, before him, the wild rush on the Egyptian square, the mad confusion, the charge of a handful of white officers, and the one white man going off, with the black battalion that held together.

If, then, it was a shock to him to know how his father had died, how vastly greater would it have been, to his mother! She had pictured him as dying suddenly, fighting to the last, and scarce conscious of pain till he received a fatal wound. She had said, to Gregory, that it was better to think of his father as having died thus, than lingering in hopeless slavery, like Neufeld; but it would have been agony to her to know that he did suffer for two years, that he had then struggled on through all dangers to Khartoum, and was on his way back, full of hope and love for her, when he was treacherously murdered.

The village sheik met him, as he went down.

"You have found nothing, my lord?"

"Nothing but a few old papers," he said.

"You will report well of us, I hope, to the great English commander?"

"I shall certainly tell him that you did all in your power to aid me."

He walked down towards the river. One of the men, who had gone on while he had been speaking to the sheik, ran back to meet him.

"There is a steamer coming up the river, my lord."

"That is fortunate, indeed," Gregory exclaimed. "I had intended to sleep here, tonight, and to bargain with the sheik for donkeys or camels to take us back. This will save two days."

Two or three native craft were fastened up to the shore, waiting for a breeze to set in, strong enough to take them up. Gregory at once arranged, with one of them, to put his party on board the steamer, in their boat. In a quarter of an hour the gunboat approached, and they rowed out to meet her.

As she came up, Gregory stood up, and shouted to them to throw him a rope. This was done, and an officer came to the side.

"I want a passage for myself and five men, to Abu Hamed. I am an officer on General Hunter's staff."

"With pleasure.

"Have you come down from the front?" he asked, as Gregory stepped on board, with the five blacks.

"Yes."

"Then you can tell me about the great fight. We heard of it, at Dongola, but beyond the fact that we had thrashed the Khalifa, and taken Omdurman, we received no particulars.

"But before you begin, have a drink.

"It is horribly annoying to me," he went on, as they sat down under the awning, and the steward brought tumblers, soda water, some whisky, and two lemons.

Gregory refused the whisky, but took a lemon with his cold water.

"A horrible nuisance," the officer went on. "This is one of Gordon's old steamers; she has broken down twice. Still, I console myself by thinking that, even if I had been in time, very likely she would not have been taken up.

"I hope, however, there will be work to do, yet. As you see, I have got three of these native craft in tow, and it is as much as I can do to get them up this cataract.

"Now, please tell me about the battle."

Gregory gave him an outline of the struggle, of the occupation of Omdurman, and of what might be called the funeral service of Gordon, at Khartoum. It was dark before the story was finished.

"By the way," the officer said, as they were about to sit down to dinner, "while we were on deck, I did not ask about your men. I must order food to be given them."

"They have plenty," Gregory said. "I brought enough for a week with me. I thought that I might be detained two or three days, here, and be obliged to make the journey by land to Abu Hamed."

"I have not asked you what you were doing at this out of the way place, and how long you have been here."

"I only landed this morning. I came down to search for some relics. My father was on board Stewart's steamer, and as there would be nothing doing at Omdurman, for a few days, I got leave to run down. I was fortunate in securing a boat at Abu Hamed, on my arrival there; and I have been equally so, now, in having been picked up by you; so that I shall not be away from Omdurman more than seven days, if I have equal luck in getting a steamer at Atbara. I do not think I shall be disappointed, for the white troops are coming down, and stores are going up for the Egyptian brigade, so that I am certain not to be kept there many hours. The Sirdar has gone up to Fashoda, or I don't suppose I should have got leave."

"Yes. I heard at Merawi, from the officer in command, that some foreign troops had arrived there. I suppose nothing more is known about it?"

"No; no news will probably come down for another fortnight, perhaps longer than that."

"Who can they be?"

"The general idea is that they are French. They can only be French, or a party from the Congo States."

"They had tremendous cheek, whoever they are," the officer said. "It is precious lucky, for them, that we have given the Khalifa something else to think about, or you may be sure he would have wiped them out pretty quickly; unless they are a very strong force, which doesn't seem probable. I hear the Sirdar has taken a regiment up with him."

"Yes, but I don't suppose any actual move will be made, at present."

"No, I suppose it will be a diplomatic business. Still, I should think they would have to go."

"No one has any doubt about that, at Omdurman," Gregory said. "After all the expense and trouble we have had to retake the Soudan, it is not likely that we should let anyone else plant themselves on the road to the great lakes.

"When will you be at Abu Hamed, sir?"

"We shall be there about five o'clock—at any rate, I think you may safely reckon on catching the morning train. It goes, I think, at eight."

"I am sure to catch a train, soon, for orders have been sent down that railway materials shall be sent up, as quickly as possible; as it has been decided that the railway shall be carried on, at once, to Khartoum. I expect that, as soon as the Nile falls, they will make a temporary bridge across the Atbara."

It was six in the morning, when the steamer arrived at Abu Hamed. Gregory at once landed, paid his four men, went up to the little station; and, an hour later, was on his way to Atbara Fort. He had but two hours to wait there, and reached Omdurman at three o'clock, on the following afternoon. As he landed, he met an officer he knew.

"Is there any news?" he asked.

"Nothing but Fashoda is talked about. It has been ascertained that the force there is undoubtedly French. The betting is about even as to whether France will back down, or not. They have made it difficult for themselves, by an outburst of enthusiasm at what they considered the defeat of England. Well, of course, that does not go for much, except that it makes it harder for their government to give in."

"And has any news been received of the whereabouts of the Khalifa?"

"No. Broadwood, with two regiments of Egyptian cavalry and the camel corps, started in pursuit of the Khalifa and Osman, an hour after it was found that they had got away. Slatin Pasha went with them. But as the horses had been at work all day, they had to stop at half past eight. They could not then get down to the water, and bivouacked where they had halted. At four in the morning they started again, and at half past eight found a spot where they could get down to the river; then they rode fifteen miles farther.

"They were now thirty-five miles from Omdurman. One of the gunboats had gone up with supplies, but owing to the Nile having overflowed, could not get near enough to land them. Next morning they got news that the Khalifa was twenty-five miles ahead, and had just obtained fresh camels, so they were ordered to return to the town. They had picked up a good many of the fugitives, among them the Khalifa's favourite wife; who, doubtless with other women, had slipped away at one of his halting places, feeling unable to bear the constant fatigues and hardships of the flight in the desert.

"The cavalry have since been out again, but beyond the fact that the Khalifa had been joined by many of the fugitives from the battle, and was making for Kordofan, no certain news has been obtained. At present, nothing can be done in that direction.

"That horse you bought is all right."

"I really did not like taking him, for I already had one; and it looked almost like robbery, giving him two pounds for it, and the saddle."

"Others have done as well," the officer laughed. "One of the brigade staff bought a horse for a pound from Burleigh, who had given forty for it at Cairo. There was no help for it. They could not take horses down. Besides, it is not their loss, after all. The newspapers can afford to pay for them. They must have been coining money, of late."

"That reconciles me," Gregory laughed. "I did not think of the correspondents' expenses being paid by the papers."

"I don't know anything about their arrangements, but it stands to reason that it must be so, in a campaign like this. In an ordinary war, a man can calculate what his outlay might be; but on an expedition of this kind, no one could foretell what expenses he might have to incur.

"Besides, the Sirdar has saved the newspapers an enormous expenditure. The correspondents have been rigidly kept down to messages of a few hundred words; whereas, if they had had their own way, they would have sent down columns. Of course, the correspondents grumbled, but I have no doubt their employers were very well pleased, and the newspapers must have saved thousands of pounds, by this restriction."

"You are back sooner than I expected," General Hunter said, when Gregory went in and reported his arrival. "It is scarce a week since you left."

"Just a week, sir. Everything went smoothly, and I was but three or four hours at Hebbeh."

"And did you succeed in your search?"

"Yes, sir. I most fortunately found a man who had hidden a pocketbook he had taken from the body of one of the white men who were murdered there. There was nothing in it but old papers and, when Brackenbury's expedition approached, he had hidden it away; and did not give it a thought, until I enquired if he knew of any papers, and other things, connected with those on board the steamer. He at once took me to the place where he had hidden it, under a great stone, and it turned out to be the notebook and journals of my father; who was, as I thought possible, the white man who had arrived at Khartoum, a short time before the place was captured by the Dervishes, and who had gone down in the steamer that carried Colonel Stewart."

"Well, Hilliard," the General said, kindly, "even the certain knowledge of his death is better than the fear that he might be in slavery. You told me you had no remembrance of him?"

"None, sir; but of course, my mother had talked of him so often, and had several photographs of him—the last taken at Cairo, before he left—so that I almost seem to have known him. However, I do feel it as a relief to know that he is not, as I feared was remotely possible, a slave among the Baggara. But I think it is hard that, after having gone through two years of trials and sufferings, he should have been murdered on his way home."

"No doubt that is so. Have you read your father's diary, yet?"

"No, sir; I have not had the heart to do so, and shall put it off, until the shock that this has given me has passed away. I feel that a little hard work will be the best thing for me. Is there any chance of it?"

"You have just returned in time. I am going up the Blue Nile, tomorrow morning, to clear out the villages; which, no doubt, are all full of fugitives. I am glad that you have come back. I was speaking of you today to General Rundle, who is in command.

"One of the objects of the expedition is to prevent Fadil from crossing the river. He was advancing from Gedareh, at the head of ten thousand troops, to join the Khalifa; and was but forty miles away, on the day after we took this place; but when he received the news of our victory, he fell back. If he can cross, he will bring a very formidable reinforcement to the Khalifa.

"We know that Colonel Parsons started from Kassala, on the 7th, his object being to capture Gedareh, during the absence of Fadil. He is to cross the Atbara at El Fasher, and will then march up this bank of the river, till he is at the nearest point to Gedareh. It is probable that he will not strike across before the 18th, or the 20th. His force is comparatively small, and we do not know how large a garrison Fadil will have left there.

"Altogether, we are uneasy about the expedition. It is very desirable that Parsons should know that Fadil is retiring, and that, so far as we can learn from the natives, he has not yet crossed the Blue Nile. Gedareh is said to be a strong place, and once there, Parsons might hold it against Fadil until we can send him reinforcements.

"In order to convey this information to him, we require someone on whom we can absolutely rely. I said that, if you were here, I felt sure that you would volunteer for the service. Of course it is, to a certain extent, a dangerous one; but I think that, speaking the language as you do, and as you have already been among the Dervishes, you might, even if taken prisoner, make out a good story for yourself."

"I would undertake the commission, with pleasure," Gregory said. "I shall, of course, go in native dress."

"I propose that we carry you a hundred miles up the river, with us, and there land you. From that point, it would not be more than sixty or seventy miles across the desert to the Atbara, which you would strike forty or fifty miles above El Fasher. Of course you would be able to learn, there, whether Parsons had crossed. If he had, you would ride up the bank till you overtake him. If he had not, you would probably meet him at Mugatta. He must cross below that, as it is there he leaves the river."

"That seems simple enough, sir. My story would be that I was one of the Dervishes, who had escaped from the battle here; and had stopped at a village, thinking that I was safe from pursuit, until your boats came along; and that I then crossed the desert to go to Gedareh, where I thought I should be safe. That would surely carry me through. I shall want two fast camels—one for myself, and one for my boy."

"These we can get for you, from Abdul Azil, the Abadah sheik. Of course, you will put on Dervish robes and badges?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will go across and tell General Rundle, and obtain written instructions for you to carry despatches to Parsons. I will give them to you when you go up on the boat, in the morning. I will see at once about the camels, and ask the Intelligence people to get you two of the Dervish suits. You will also want rifles."

"Thank you, sir! I have a couple of Remingtons, and plenty of ammunition for them. I have two spears, also, which I picked up when we came in here."

"We are off again, Zaki," he said, when he returned to his hut; where the black was engaged in sweeping up the dust, and arranging everything as usual.

"Yes, master." Zaki suspended his work. "When do we go?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Do we take everything with us?"

"No. I start in uniform. We shall both want Dervish dresses, but you need not trouble about them—they will be got for us."